Life Class
by Kitty le Fay
Summary: Arthur shows a sudden "interest" in Morgana's Life Drawing class. Modern AU.


**AN: As an artist, I get a lot of people–very stupid people, I might add–making the assumption that Life Drawing classes are in a way sexual. In some cases, they can be, as I've taken burlesque life classes before and they were fun, but for the most part it's just about the study of the human form. Nothing more. You are not allowed to giggle or misbehave in a way that would make the model uncomfortable or vice-versa. **

**As a result, I decided to write this little ditty. Enjoy!**

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"Hey!" Morgana huffs, "sorry I'm late. Life class ran longer than I expected."

Morgana scoots up next to Gwen as Merlin orders the next round of drinks. Arthur, meanwhile, is more interested in what's in Morgana's bag. His brotherly habit of raiding her things without a word is something Morgana has grown used to over the years to the point that she doesn't even bother to scold him anymore. He pulls out her sketchbook, searches through and widens his eyes at the sight of the most recent page.

"Arthur?" Merlin questions for the third time, snapping his fingers before Arthur's stunned face. "Earth to Arthur?"

Arthur is too fixed on the page, completely frozen at what he is looking at.

"What is it?" Gwen asks.

Merlin takes a look at the page and starts to grin. "Mithian, apparently."

Gwen takes a peek. "A very well-drawn Mithian too."

"A very _naked_ Mithian," Arthur nods, still wide-eyed in shock. "Something you're not telling me, sis?"

Morgana just rolls her eyes. "It's life drawing, Arthur, the model's _supposed_ to be naked, for the most part."

Gwen grabs the sketchbook for a look. "I didn't know Mithian did modeling."

"Yeah, she's one of our regulars," Morgana explains. "Being a dancer pays about as well as any art form, so she takes life modeling as a second job. We get some great poses from her too. You wouldn't believe the flexibility of that woman!"

"Does my nephew know about this?" Arthur asks, teasing.

Morgana cocks an eyebrow and snatches back her sketchbook. "Mordred's ten, Art, he's not a baby. He's well aware of what I do and I feel should remind you that there's nothing sexual about life class. It's the study of the human body. The model has to be naked so the artists can observe the human form."

There's suddenly a sparkle in Arthur's eye that Morgana is all too familiar with. He has an idea. A bad idea.

"Hey, Mo," he smirks. "You don't think you could sign me up for this life class, would you?"

Morgana's brow furrows. "You…want to sign up for life drawing?"

"Yeah."

"You can't even draw a straight line."

"Well…yeah, but…I'll be trying something new. And you're a trained artist, maybe you could teach me."

Morgana can only look sadly on her brother. "You _do_ realize that not all of our models look like Mithian, right?"

"Yeah," Arthur lies. "I'm just interested."

"I'm serious, Art. Life class is _not_ for titillation and if anyone comes in thinking that it is, they get kicked out."

"Well, I'm serious too and I want to see what you do."

Morgana sighs. "Okay."

A week later, Morgana parks her Ducati at her class after dropping Mordred off to school. Arthur is leaning by the door with that stupid grin on his face with the cheapest and most poor excuses for arts supplies under his arm. He's checking out the more attractive arts students, probably under the impression that he'll be seeing more of them.

Morgana shakes her head as a friend walks by her with the same confused expression.

"Someone you know?" Nimueh asks, gesturing towards Arthur.

"Sadly, yes," Morgana grumbles. "He's my brother."

"Oh, you poor thing! What's he doing here, then?"

"Pretending to be interested in my line of work when he really just wants to ogle at a life model."

"And you're letting him?"

Morgana flashes her infamous smile. It's the smile that lets her friend know that justice is about to be served. "He wants to see how my job works and he will."

As the ladies giggle their way into the building, Arthur follows them like a lap dog to the classroom. He's still eyeing the prettiest girls who smile back only to turn their backs on him and roll their eyes in disgust. The only girl he doesn't see, however, is Mithian.

"I thought you said Mithian was one of your regulars," he whispers to Morgana, who is also setting up her supplies.

"She is," she whispers back. "We're not drawing her today, though. She has recitals."

"Who's the model, then?"

Before another word can be said, a tall and beautiful auburn-haired woman in her late forties walks into the room, bidding the class good morning.

"Morning, Catrina," the class greets back.

For a moment, Arthur's eyes widen in the glorious thought of Catrina being their model, but no.

"Alright," she says. "We'll be doing something a little different this week. Last week we had some good dancer's poses so today, I thought we'd take on some heavier forms. So, without further ado, everyone, please welcome back Grunhilda."

The class gladly greets the model, but Arthur freezes. He expected to see a naked model, but a plump woman pushing seventy clearly hadn't crossed his mind. As he turns fearfully towards his sister, he is far less comforted by her wicked grin.

"I told you they don't all look like Mithian."


End file.
